Dishonored, really? I pause, rubbing my neck with my hand. After hanging out with Adair, it’s not actually all that surprising. That House of Acca is bad news. I chuck Cissy gently on the shoulder. “No worries. I can just head back.”

She tilts her head to one side. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure.” If I can ever find my way back to the parking lot and Betsy. That was a hike.

Cissy gives me a peck on the cheek. “Thanks.” She lifts up her skirt a bit, spins about and speeds off. Once she’s gone, I scope out the grounds, trying to picture the long path back to Betsy. Not really sure how to begin.

That’s when I hear it. Angry Acca voices calling for the ‘foul demon,’ ‘scum fighter,’ and ‘quasi whore’ who humiliated their Earl. I saved the guy’s life, and this is what happens? My throat tightens. Sadness and disappointment wind about my ribs. What have I been trying to prove by fighting these people? Did I think they’d realize a quasi girl has as much value as a thrax warrior? No matter what I do, they’ll never see me as anything but a foul demon.

My eyes sting. He’ll never see me as anything but a foul demon, either.

A bitter gloom settles into my bones. I need to head home, now. I try to slog my way back to the parking lot, but I’m not used to the puffy dress and heels. I slip in the mud, landing on my bum with a thump. Warm tears blur my vision.

Footsteps slosh up behind me. Even in the mud, I can’t miss the military precision of the owner’s walk. Lincoln.

I lift my hands, watching mud drip through my fingers. “Look, buddy. If you’re here to complain, I’ve already heard it. The House of Acca yells much better than they fight.”

Lincoln clears his throat. “On behalf of myself and my people, thank you for saving the Earl’s life.”

I shake my head, not sure if I heard him correctly. Was that actual niceness from the Prince’s mouth? I watch his outline as he walks away.

My head cocks to one side. “You’re welcome.”

I slowly haul myself to my feet. My gown’s so loaded with mud, it now weighs a ton. I frown. It’s going to take me forever to slog back to Betsy, even if I can figure out where I parked her.

A whinny sounds from a nearby line of trees. I scan the dim forest. Nightshade’s bluish-gray coat gleams in the shadows. I smile.

“Perfect timing, Night. I could sure use a ride.”

13

Cissy’s chipper voice carries from my front door into my dingy bedroom. “Hello, Momma Lewis. Is Myla home?”

Sitting upright in bed, I slam shut the schoolbook in my hands.

Cissy’s here. Sweet.